


after the rain

by jestbee



Series: Fic Every Day in June 2019 [4]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Clubbing, First Meeting, Internalised Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, Pride, Sort Of, YouTuber cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 04:00:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19310203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jestbee/pseuds/jestbee
Summary: they meet at pride





	after the rain

**Author's Note:**

> written for the @phandomficfest pride flash fest
> 
> 2 years ago I told someone on Twitter I'd write a fic where they meet at pride, I planned out a chaptered story, and wrote this in June of 2017. So if I was ever going to write a chaptered story about that, this is how it would start.
> 
> Mostly based on my own experiences, which is why this pride is nothing like the real Manchester one would be, but I'm mildly surprised how this still feel relevant after the video even thought I wrote it 2 years ago.

“You definitely have to come,” Chris says, “Everyone is going.” 

“I think I’m busy,” Dan shrugs, staring into his phone screen and willing Chris to drop it. 

“It’s not just for the gays,” Chris laughs, “Your lot can come too.” 

“My lot?” Dan says, head whipping up to narrow his eyes in Chris’ direction. “What would ‘my lot’ be exactly?” 

Chris hesitates, looking him up and down pointedly, assessing. “Bi…?” 

Dan rolls his eyes and goes back to his phone. “Shows what you know.” 

“It’s pride!” Chris argues, poking him in the shoulder repeatedly, “It’s for everyone. Even straight people if they’re allies. Which you...are?” 

Dan sighs dramatically, moving out of his housemate’s reach. 

He walks to the kitchen area of their flat and runs the tap into a glass. He turns to rest against the counter as he sips it. He’s avoiding Chris’ scrutiny from across the tiny room, their small excuse for a living room only steps away. Chris’ eyes find him easily, insistent and slightly judgemental.

Dan sometimes regret moving in with a second year straight away. He'd thought it would be better to only have to deal with one housemate instead of all of the people in halls so he'd answered an advertisement from a 2nd year student looking for someone to take the other room in a two bedroom flat. Chris had thought him a little strange, a first year who didn't want to get embroiled in all the partying and craziness that went along with moving to university, but they seemed to get on and have become something approaching friends now they're a few months in. 

He has a nasty habit of asking more questions than Dan wants to answer though.

“You realise you don’t need to like, carry a card saying which part of the club you belong to, to get into Pride, right?" Chris says. "It’s just an awareness march and then a bit of a party in a field." 

"That's not all it is," Dan counters, "And you know it. It's like, a protest."

"Not in the way you're implying," Chris insists. "It's about awareness, about showing we've still got a ways to go, that things aren't okay yet. And it's about having Pride, Dan. In who you are, in who we all are, regardless of what that is."

Chris shrugs like this is no big deal and Dan wishes he could see it that way, that it was that easy for him to even know who he was in the first place, let alone have pride in it. 

"There are clubs after too" Chris continues, "if you want to go. You really don’t have to decide all of this now.” 

Dan doesn’t answer, but he does keep sipping his water and he doesn’t leave the room. 

“Just come,” Chris says, “I promise you’ll have a good time. It’ll do you good to get out. No pun intended.” 

Dan ignores the way Chris’ eyebrows quirk and simply nods, takes another sip of his water. And really, that’s where it all starts.

* * *

It’s just as loud and crowded and rainbow-filled as Dan had thought it would be. The atmosphere is really positive and Dan can see, generally, how people might find this sort of thing fun. A safe space, a place to see a huge crowd of people and think, ‘yep, they’re like me, I’m not alone’. Except, he just doesn’t know, is the problem, and this all seems like a rather loud and obnoxiously overt display that he isn’t sure he wants to participate in. He wants to belong without having to fight to do so, he wants to get on with his life and 'life his truth' or whatever nonsense they're touting, without having to shout about it. 

There are so many ‘labels’ now it feels like he’s scrambling around in the dark trying to find something he recognises by the sensation of touch alone, only he doesn’t know what it’s supposed to feel like. It’s too confusing and honestly, he’d rather just not think about it most of the time. Even if that consequently means he feels like he’s lying or like he isn’t really sure who he is. 

The problem is that he hadn’t really felt the need to give a name to the feeling, not before he came to university. When he arrived here, suddenly everyone had a bespoke string of sexual orientations they used from an ever-growing list. He knew that he'd often looked at boys and that it made him feel twisted inside, he knew that he made out with a few boys at parties and it had felt different to when he made out with girls those few times when he was younger, a heady rush of attraction and desire. But he hadn’t felt the need to make a big deal out of it. Not until uni. Not until suddenly people were asking him to define it, to put a label on what all of that meant. 

Can’t he just be figuring it out? Can’t he just like who he likes without feeling the need to label it all? Can’t he just be this way for now without him having to commit to being that way forever? God knows he's not the same person he was even two years, and he has no idea who he'll be in another two.

There’s a sound system at the far end of the field booming out energetic dance music, Chris has painted a rainbow flag on his cheek and is dancing wildly, throwing his arms at odd angles and jumping about. 

“Come on, Dan!”

“No thanks,” Dan smiles weakly, “I’ll just… get us a drink?” 

The sun is beating down on him, had been all the way through the march when Chris insisted on talking to every group of people they passed. His black t-shirt is soaking up the heat so that it's way too hot and he feels a little suffocated. He's vastly out of place here amongst the bright colours and the frantic energy, it's loud and celebrating and he just wants to go home and sit on the sofa and not have to think of the implications of what this day means.

“Don’t be silly. We’re not paying drinks tent prices.” Chris pretends to shudder, but he stops dancing so Dan can almost put up with it. “Come on.” 

He grabs Dan’s hand and pulls him across the grass, his pace so quick that Dan stumbles after him on the uneven ground. They come to a stall swarming with a group of people their own age and Chris walks straight up to a girl with chin length brown hair and begins chatting without introducing Dan.

Dan kicks at the ground and tries to become invisible. 

At least these people are his own age. He’d been surprised, perhaps naively, when he arrived to see people of all ages. There were even really old people carrying banners and wearing t-shirts emblazoned with slogans even Dan would be too embarrassed to wear in public. It had made him smile though.

“You look lost.” 

There is a guy at his side suddenly. He’s stood with the setting sun behind him throwing him into silhouette and Dan has to raise a hand to his eyes to shield them when he looks up to meet his eyes. 

The bloke steps sideways into the light’s path and suddenly his face is visible, the halo of sunlight cast around his dark hair. The most piercing blue eyes Dan has ever seen are peering at him above high cheekbones, He watches these first, glinting in the light, followed by tracking the emergence of a beautiful, vibrant smile. This was not part of the plan.

“I’m um,” Dan starts, swallowing. “I’m with Chris.” 

“Oi! Kendall!” he is suddenly shouting, reaching out an arm to push at Chris’ shoulder to get his attention. 

He has a rainbow flag tied around his shoulders like a cape and it flies out behind him as he steps away. Dan turns his body to follow the movement, shuffling closer to the crowd of people without realising. 

“What?” Chris asks, face screwed up into defiance. 

“You’re ignoring your cute guest,” the guy with the flag says, winking over to Dan. He doesn’t really manage it properly, one eye closing only a fraction before the other so that it is more of a blink by the end. The error doesn’t stop the odd swooping sensation in Dan’s stomach though.

“Phil!” Chris greets him, “I’m trying to procure some of the drinks I know you guys have stashed here. Dodie isn’t giving up the goods.” 

“You know drinks aren’t allowed on the field outside of the drinks tents,” the girl, Dodie Dan supposes, says shaking a finger at him. 

“It’s fine,” Phil assures her, “Chris is cool and… I’m sure that means Dan is too,” he turns back towards Dan and stares at him unblinkingly. 

“Yeah…” Dan replies automatically, “I am… I mean… oh god.” He puts a hand over his face and groans. 

“He’s me housemate,” Chris explains accepting a coke bottle from Dodie which, Dan suspects, is not filled with merely coke. “And he needs to loosen up. Here.” 

He thrusts the bottle at Dan who has no choice but to unscrew the cap and take a sip. He was right, whatever is in the bottle it not just coke, it’s probably vodka or bacardi mixed in with it, in a rather large ratio Dan would wager. He goes to pass it back. 

“That’s for you,” Dodie smiles sweetly, pulling more from the backpack in her hand, Dan likes her instantly. “Here Chris. Now stop making a nuisance of yourself.” 

“Me?” Chris says, laying a hand over his heart, “A nuisance?” 

“You are,” Phil says with a laugh, “But I’ll let you off because you bring cute boys to Pride.” 

Dan flushes and feels his stomach flip over again. God, this was so not part of the plan for today. He hides his face behind the bottle and take a large swig that burns on its way down. 

Another girl comes over and taps Phil on the arm, breaking the eye contact he’s been maintaining with Dan. Phil leans down as the girl whispers something in his ear. 

“Well,” Phil says gesturing with a thumb, “duty calls. Will I see you guys at Powerhouse later?” 

“Well I don’t know if--” 

“Yes.” Dan decides, cutting off Chris before he can politely decline. “We’ll be there.” 

Phil nods at him and turns to leave. Dan watches him go and lets the disappointment linger for a moment before he catches himself. 

“Isn’t that a turn up for the books,” Chris says bumping his shoulder, “I didn’t think you wanted to go to a club after?” 

Dan shakes his head, “Who is that?” he asks instead. 

Dan looks over as Phil moves behind the stall with Manchester University banners draped over it and engages in conversation with those gathered there. Evidently something is happening that needs Phil's attention. 

Chris laughs, “Oh my god. That’s Phil. He’s… well, he’s LGBT Soc president and rep for the union.” 

Dan lets his eyes follow Phil for a moment and blanches when Phil looks back over at them, catching Dan in the act. He raises his eyebrows slightly but smiles widely and Dan feels his face grow warm.

He doesn’t want to keep feeling the swirling nervous feeling that’s vibrating through him, something unexpected that he hasn’t felt in a long time. He chases the emotion down his throat with a few large mouthfuls from the bottle in his hand. And that, is where it becomes inevitable.

* * *

The club might have been a mistake. Chris had attached himself to some tall curly haired guy as soon as they got there and they’d hit the dance floor. Being uncoordinated, Dan was left nursing a drink at a lonely table as the bright lights flashed over him. 

Not that Dan had much experience of these things, but the club seemed more lively than usual. Sweaty bodies draped in bright colours pressed against each other, laughing jovially, buoyed by the day. Dan looks on enviously at the people who could find identity here, can feel the unreachable calm that comes with knowing who you are and tries not to let his jealousy of it show on his face. 

He’s basically decided to leave when Phil drops into the seat beside him. 

“I am sooo tired,” he shouts over the music, flopping dramatically and putting his head into Dan’s lap. “And drunk,” he adds, “Quite quite drunk.”

“Okay,” Dan says, trying not move, his muscles tensed where Phil is pressed against him. He prays he doesn’t say anything too stupid, because he’s also a bit drunk and drunk Dan needs his tongue reining in usually. He’s doing an admirable job considering. 

“You were missing,” Phil says, a wide smile cutting his face in two, “But I found you.”

“I wasn’t missing,” Dan shrugs, “I was just here.” 

“Here all alone,” Phil sing songs, “Are you one of those tortured artist types? I do hope so, I’ve never kissed a tortured artist type before.” 

“I’m not.” Dan assures him, and tries not to think of the implications around Phil basically suggesting he was going to kiss him. He can’t put stock in loose-lipped promises from this drunken ball of vibrant colours. He _shouldn’t_ anyway.

He’s not entirely sure what he’d do if Phil tried it to be honest. This is all a bit more brazen than he’s used to, so much more out in the open than he can really handle. He suspects he’s more comfortable with furtive meetings and secretive touches, hidden and unspoken. It’s all he’s been exposed to thus far, when it comes to this. He’s fairly certain that isn’t Phil’s style at all. 

“What type are you then?” Phil asks, picking Dan’s drink from his hand and taking a swig as if it belongs to him. Dan lets it go without much of a fight, watching Phil’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows, mesmerised by it.

“I’m, err… one of those law student types I guess.” He scratches a single finger behind his ear at a phantom itch, “boring.” 

“Are you really?” Phil says, sitting up suddenly, his eyes swimming in to Dan’s vision all up close and wide. 

“Um, yes?” Dan doesn’t know what to do with this. Phil is almost sat in his lap, looking at him like nothing else exists in this room despite the loud thump of bass and the swarm of bodies moving together mere meters away. He wonders how Phil can be so comfortable with all of this. 

“That will do.”

And suddenly Phil is kissing him. It’s a little sloppy because they’re both buzzed and he tastes of Dan’s drink, the tang of Gin and Tonic hanging on his lips and tongue. But it’s enthusiastic and free in a way Dan hasn’t really experienced before, without the hanging obligation of a relationship or the thick blanket of experimentation that had draped over his previous encounters with men. 

He can lose himself in it as Phil moves up closer, tilting Dan’s head into the position he wants it with soft yet firm hands and Dan just slides his own hands up to Phil’s shoulders and hangs on for dear life. 

He’s dizzy when they part, half chasing Phil’s lips with his own as he pulls back before realising why it’s happened.

“Everyone getting along famously here then,” Chris jokes, sliding into the space on the bench beside Phil so that he has to remain sitting mostly in Dan’s lap. 

The curly haired boy is in tow behind him, tall and misplaced with awkward hands shoved into his jeans pockets. 

“This is PJ,” Chris says, “He’s…” 

“Peej!” Phil says suddenly, holding his arms out in greeting, “My friend. I couldn’t find you!”

“I’ve been around,” PJ smirks, “So have you by the looks of it.” 

“Have you met Dan?” Phil says, turning back to rest a hand on Dan’s face somewhat suddenly, the impact stings for a second, “He’s a lawyer.” 

“Law _student_ ,” Dan corrects, trying to squirm out of Phil’s grasp. It’s one thing for Phil to be draped all over him when they’re alone in a dark corner of a club, but quite another when there are other people around. It’s making his skin hot and uncomfortable at all the points Phil is pressed against him.

“Hi,” PJ nods, look sympathetic to his plight. “I don't envy you, drunk Phil is quite the handful.” 

“More than a handful thank you very much,” Phil says salaciously and Dan isn't the only one that groans.

“That was terrible mate,” Chris laughs, punching Phil lightly on the arm.

“I should probably get him home,” PJ says, reaching across Chris to grip at Phil’s arm. “If we’ve reached the cheap joke portion of the evening.”

“You’re going?” Chris whines as Phil is pulled across him. 

“Trust me, Phil needs to go before he starts assaulting young Daniel here.” 

Phil levers himself up reluctantly. “You’re no fun y’know,” he drawls, his accent slightly more northern than Dan had originally thought it was. Brought on by drink, no doubt. 

When Phil is no longer sprawled in his lap Dan shifts to get comfortable again, finding he kind of misses the weight of him, but not the stares he might have attracted. 

“You’ve got my number,” PJ says to Chris blatantly, winking at him. 

Chris seems satisfied with that and waves them off with a promise to call. He might, Dan can’t really be sure if this is one of those times Chris will forget all about it in the morning or whether he actually liked this guy enough to bother with it once the festivities have ended. 

“Bye Dan,” Phil calls, offering no such offer of a phone number. Dan thinks that is probably for the best, because he’s not sure he would call either. 

Something about him lingers though, as PJ pulls him away, stumbling and loud with drink. Phil makes an impression, whether it is the lingering taste of him on Dan’s tongue that he chases away with the rest of his drink in one gulp, or just the wild and vibrant memory of him he probably won’t be able to shake for a few days. Phil is something mysterious, loud and colourful and just… out there. In so many senses of the word. Whatever it is, Dan just isn’t sure what it means that he can’t seem to forget the way it had felt to kiss him.


End file.
